


Good Idea, Bad Idea

by Mireille



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: maleslashminis, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-12
Updated: 2007-08-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: GOOD IDEA: Stopping for lunch.BAD IDEA: Stopping for lunch at a demon strip club.Set between S6/S7 of BtVS and S3/S4 of AtS.





	Good Idea, Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe I really did structure an entire fic on a filler segment from Animaniacs.

**GOOD IDEA: Stopping for lunch at a Korean restaurant before starting on the long drive home.  
BAD IDEA: Stopping for lunch at a demon strip club before starting on the long drive home.**  
  
Xander was going to go to his grave swearing there was no way he could have  _told_  this was a strip club. There was no flashing neon, no giant silhouettes of hot girls in stiletto heels on the sign. There were a few words written in an alphabet he would have bet money on being Korean, and something that looked like a giant shrimp. To Xander, that had meant, "Korean seafood." They hadn't even carded him, so how was he supposed to know this was anything but a restaurant?   
  
Of course, right now, as he sipped his beer and stared at the stage, he was starting to realize that what he'd taken for peel-and-eat shrimp on the sign was actually the headline act. And, considering that this was obviously a strip club, he was going to retract that previous "peel-and-eat" and replace it with something much less disturbing.   
  
The damage was done, anyway; he'd already seen some things he was pretty sure he'd never be able to unsee, and so now the thing to do would be to drink his beer and eat his overpriced club sandwich and keep the promise he'd made to himself that he was never, ever going to look back in the direction of the stage again. If he had to look somewhere other than his glass, he'd focus on his fellow patrons. Most of them were no less freaky-looking than Shrimp-Girl, but at least they weren't naked.   
  
And some of them were even human. Creepy as hell--like the guy in the Hawaiian shirt, three tables away, who was staring at Shrimp-Girl like she was on his plate at Red Lobster--but human.   
  
One of them even looked kind of familiar, Xander realized, although he wasn't sure where he'd seen the guy. And he'd have remembered. He might not have admitted to anybody  _else_  that he'd remembered him, because there never seemed like a right time to bring up that he had a really  _good_  memory for guys who, at least in profile, looked potentially hot and probably dangerous, but he'd have remembered.   
  
Then the guy turned around a little more, his hand hovering just inside his jacket like he was about to reach for a weapon, and Xander wanted to crawl under a rock until he forgot all about that "potentially hot" thing.   
  
And possibly until his brain stopped trying to answer the question, "What is Wesley doing in a demon strip club?" with anything but, "Maybe he likes club sandwiches."   
  
  


***

  
  
**GOOD IDEA: Saying hello to the old acquaintance at the next table.  
BAD IDEA: Ignoring the way that old acquaintance dodges questions about what he's doing now.**  
  
The plan was to ignore Wesley. It wasn't like Wesley was going to notice him. It had been what, three years since Xander had seen him? He  _had_  to look different than he had at eighteen. Besides, Xander was probably the last person Wesley was expecting to see here. Or anywhere. There was a good chance that Wesley didn't even really remember what he looked like, not enough to recognize him somewhere like this.   
  
Wesley was looking around the room, though, scanning the crowd like he was expecting somebody, and Xander could tell the exact second when Wesley recognized him.   
  
Well, crap. So much for that hope.   
  
The best course, Xander figured, was to pretend there was nothing at all embarrassing about being caught here--even if he explained he wasn't actually here to look at nearly-naked demons, it wasn't like "I was too dumb to figure out this was a strip club" was something to be proud of. He'd finished eating, so he dropped some cash on the table; the mostly-humanoid demon who'd brought his food was only a couple of tables away, and Xander made sure to catch her/his/its eye before he made his way over to Wesley's table. The last thing he needed was to pile on more embarrassment by being accused of trying to skip out on the check.   
  
Wesley was sitting alone; Xander pulled out a chair and sat down next to him. "Long time, no see," he offered, still trying to sound cool and unembarrassed.   
  
"Xander," Wesley said. It was kind of reassuring that Wesley remembered his name, because other than that, Xander might have still had doubts that this really was the Wesley he'd known in Sunnydale.   
  
If Wesley had been like  _this_  in Sunnydale, they might not have mocked him as loudly.   
  
Okay, they probably would have, but Xander would have secretly been imagining Wesley naked the whole time he was mocking, which probably would have blunted the edges a little.   
  
"Saw you over here," Xander explained unnecessarily. "I thought I'd come over and say hi before I left."   
  
Wesley's response was a slight nod; he seemed to be looking past Xander, still watching the room.   
  
"So, what have you been up to?" he pressed on; Wesley's silence was making him jumpy, unable to take his own advice and leave now that he'd said hello.   
  
Now Wesley looked at him, frowning slightly. "I'm afraid I don't have time to talk," he said. "I'm working."  
  
Xander wasn't sure what kind of job required you to hang out in strip clubs in the middle of the afternoon, but if there were any that involved  _human_  strip clubs, he was applying tomorrow. "Sure," he said, smirking a little. He didn't mean anything by it; it was sunny out, and Angel probably  _had_  sent Wesley here to check something out, but it just  _sounded_  like a totally lame excuse.   
  
A round of wild applause and cheering turned his attention toward the stage, where the next act had begun. "Oh, man, I did not need to see that," Xander muttered, wishing he hadn't eaten that sandwich after all. "At least my boss just sends me to lame meetings at the head office. Yet another reason to be glad I don't work for Angel."   
  
Wesley was giving a pretty good impression of someone who was ignoring Xander, but Xander thought he saw the other man's jaw tighten. Apparently Angel was a touchy subject, in which case that might be something Xander needed to know about.   
  
Okay, it almost definitely wasn't something Xander needed to know about, but he was always ready to participate in a round of complaining about Angel.   
  
It looked like Wesley wasn't, though, which left Xander with only one conversational gambit left. Not that he had any good reason to be talking to Wesley, period; he'd said hello, so he couldn't even blame it on being polite, and it wasn't even like he'd ever  _liked_  Wesley. And frankly, the idea that he was finding Wesley kind of hot at the moment was freaking him out to a degree that he hadn't freaked himself out to a long time. It was  _Wesley_ , for God's sake.   
  
He should get back to Sunnydale. He should go to the site, give the foreman the rundown on the meeting he'd had to sit through this morning, go and see if Buffy and Dawn wanted to go to the Mexican place downtown for dinner. Most of all, he should get away from the demon strip club, and from Wesley, and from this pathetically awkward attempt at a conversation.   
  
Instead, he went for the only other common ground he knew about--the reason he knew Wesley was working for Angel in the first place. "So, how's Cordelia doing?"   
  
Wesley's gaze flicked toward him, just for a second, before he went back to watching one of the fire exits. "She was fine the last time I saw her."   
  
Which was kind of a non-answer, because that could have been an hour ago or back in April, for all Xander knew. But before he could ask any more skillfully probing questions, Wesley got to his feet. "Stay there," he said, starting off in the direction of the fire exit he'd been watching.   
  
"Stay there," Xander muttered under his breath. There wasn't any reason for him to stay put, and it wasn't like he thought Wesley wanted him to be here when or if he came back; Wesley just didn't want him following.   
  
And Xander didn't particularly want to follow, except for the part where he hadn't ever really liked Wesley telling him what to do. Even if Wesley had stopped wearing bad suits and an expression that suggested he had a two-by-four permanently up his ass, Xander didn't see any need for him to change his opinion of that.   
  
Just to make it seem, to himself at least, that he wasn't childishly doing the exact opposite of what Wesley told him to, though, he went out the front door of the club.   
  
Well, because of that and the fact that Wesley had set the fire alarm off.   
  
  


***

  
  
  
**GOOD IDEA: Someone telling you "thank you" after you help him out.  
BAD IDEA: Someone making out with you after you help him out.**  
  
"Your grasp of simple English sentences hasn't improved, I see," Wesley muttered, brushing dirt and gravel off his pants and occasionally glaring up at Xander.   
  
Xander leaned back against the wall, trying to get his breath. "What?"  
  
"I told you to stay where you were," Wesley said.   
  
Xander considered, briefly, whether "you're not the boss of me" would be an appropriate response. Then he shrugged. "Are we missing the point where I saved your life?"   
  
"I could have handled it," Wesley said.   
  
"Yeah. You were handling things really great when I got out here." If by "really great" you meant that he'd found Wesley on the ground with a panicking demon's claws around his throat. He might be better-dressed and a little scarier looking, but it turned out Wesley was still Wesley.   
  
Not that Xander had done anything all that impressive when he turned up, but the demon had freaked out when it saw what it thought was Wesley's backup. Xander wouldn't even be out of breath if Wesley hadn't yelled for him not to let the demon get away.   
  
"I spent two weeks cultivating that informant," Wesley snapped.   
  
"Maybe you shouldn't have set off the fire alarms and scared him, then?" Xander suggested. Damn it. He'd just wanted to have lunch and go home, and he'd wound up first scarring himself for life and then getting bitched at for  _saving Wesley's ass_.   
  
Well, that was a mistake he wouldn't be making again. Even if Wesley had turned to go, and Xander had a clear view of the ass he'd just saved, which reminded him of the other crappy part of today: he'd actually been considering hitting on Wesley, at least before he'd recognized him.   
  
Then it occurred to him that if he'd already met the maximum human level of humiliation for one day, this was probably the perfect time to say hello to his ex-girlfriend. And hey, she'd probably enjoy knowing that Xander had fucked up  _another_  perfectly good relationship. Not that he seriously believed Cordelia Chase would ever be blaming herself for their breakup, but even Cordy might welcome the confirmation. "So, what time does Cordy get off work?" he said, checking his watch. "I thought maybe I'd go by and say hi."  
  
Wesley stopped, turning around to look at him. "Go back inside," he said. "Watch the show, and then go back to Sunnydale. Don't go looking for Cordelia, don't try to find Angel to say hello--"  
  
"As if," Xander said. Then, frowning, he added, "You think I was there to watch the show?" He shuddered. "No way." He made himself get back to the point. The original point, not the one he'd let himself wander off to. "And the least you could do is say thank you."  
  
"For what, precisely?" Wesley said. "If you hadn't frightened him more, I could have convinced Walter that--"  
  
"Walter," Xander repeated. "I am never gonna understand why demons are named like Kansas farmers."   
  
"Camouflage," Wesley said absently, checking his watch.   
  
"The guy was purple. I don't think the name's going to help." He shrugged. "You really could do the gratitude thing, though."   
  
"I know you meant well," Wesley said.   
  
Xander had heard that often enough to know that the rest of that sentence was, "but you really fucked up." He glared at Wesley. "You know," he said, "you might have been  _less_  annoying back in Sunnydale." Then his mouth started working independently of his brain. Really, he thought, as he heard himself say, "Less hot, but also less annoying," the only surprise was that it had waited this long.   
  
He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Wesley looked amused. Then Wesley said, "Well, perhaps I could muster up a bit of gratitude after all," which didn't make  _any_  sense.   
  
At least not until he realized Wesley's mouth was on his, Wesley's hands on the wall on either side of him, pinning Xander against the brickwork. Much better than a thank you, Xander decided, wrapping his arms around Wesley and kissing back.   
  
Three years after the last time Xander had seen him, Wesley had apparently found some inner streak of aggression; he kept Xander pinned against the wall, his mouth crushed hard against Xander's, hard enough that Xander knew his lips would be swollen and bruised when they finally pulled apart. He wasn't sure he minded, either.   
  
He  _was_  sure that part of him didn't mind, at least, and that part was firmly in control as his hands started to slide under Wesley's jacket.   
  
"Don't," Wesley ordered him, his lips still against Xander's, and Xander decided that groping Wesley's ass instead was the better part of valor. When he talked to Cordelia, he'd see if he could find out what the hell was going on with Wesley these days without her guessing that Xander had ulterior motives for wondering.   
  
Then they were breaking apart, and Xander leaned back against the wall again, his heavy breathing this time the result of something a lot more fun than chasing Walter the purple demon down the street. Wesley was acting weird, even for him, but except for the not wanting Xander to find the concealed weaponry Xander felt  _sure_  Wesley was hiding under that jacket, he was starting to grow on Xander. Wesley was breathing just as hard as he was, his eyes slightly unfocused and very blue, and maybe stopping for lunch had been a really good idea, after all. "You know," he said, grinning at Wesley hopefully, "They won't be surprised if I don't show up at work until tomorrow morning."   
  
Wesley actually smiled back; it was small and tight and didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was an improvement. "I'm afraid I don't have tonight free," he said, and Xander guessed that was one of the sucky things about working for a vampire.   
  
"Yeah," Xander mumbled, trying not to sound totally rejected while simultaneously hoping that Wesley would add something that made this not a rejection after all.   
  
  


***

  
  
  
**GOOD IDEA: Hitting the road in plenty of time to make it home at a decent hour.  
BAD IDEA: Hitting the road without even getting a phone number from the guy you've been making out with.**  
  
On the one hand, Xander thought, it wasn't like Wesley had completely blown him off. He'd actually seemed sorry for having to work. He hadn't asked the guy who'd just saved his  _life_  to go along with him, or said they could hang out afterward--or, for that matter, told him where the office was so Xander could go and annoy Cordy until Wesley got back--but he'd acted like he was a little sorry to be kicking Xander to the curb.   
  
But to the curb Xander had, indeed, been kicked, and half an hour later, he was on the freeway, on his way back home to Sunnydale. He didn't even have Wesley's number, though he figured if he really wanted to, he could look up Angel's detective agency in the phone book.   
  
Then he thought about the hard look in Wesley's eyes as he'd watched the room, and the way he'd avoided questions, and the fact that Xander was almost a hundred percent sure there'd been an actual  _gun_  hidden under Wesley's jacket.   
  
Maybe going home hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


End file.
